


Perfect

by Servetolive



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Augment, Character Study, Creepy, Encouragement, Hearing Voices, Imaginary Friends, Masturbation, Other, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, finding self-worth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 03:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12379542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servetolive/pseuds/Servetolive
Summary: A year after Julian discovers his dirty little secret, Kukalaka gives the bitter young man a reason to celebrate his sixteenth birthday. Repost from 2010.





	Perfect

_What’s the matter, Jules? Don’t feel much like celebrating?_

Julian, lying on his back atop the covers with his legs crossed, hesitated before responding to Kukalaka, whose unblinking eyes patrolled his sleeping area dispassionately. He was unsure if his old friend would be helpful with his mood on this particular day or not. In the past year, talking with him had resulted in mixed success regarding these specific circumstances.

“No,” he said, stiffly. “Of course not.”

_Why not?_

Julian was quiet and allowed the shifting lights beneath the door and the sound of adults’ laughter filtering in through the walls answer the question. Above all, his father’s voice boomed the loudest.

 _The party’s for_ you, _isn’t it?_

“You _know_ it’s not,” he ground between his clenched teeth. While lying down, he was able to meditate by staring at the blank ceiling and clearing his mental palate; now, his blood had reached the boiling range again, and he sat up to turn his bedside lamp on. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he let his head sink into his palms.

It was one thing to have a party for your kid’s sixteenth birthday and invite a few adult friends over to keep yourself entertained.

It’s quite another thing to have a party _for yourself,_ to bask in the ten seconds of limelight your most recent, half-baked endeavor is shining down on you, and use your kid’s sixteenth birthday as an excuse to do so.

 _Oh._ Kukalaka said heavily, the single syllable doused in sympathy. Julian scoffed at the sparse reply and pushed himself off of the edge of his bed to stand before his door. Richard’s words were garbled through the thickness of the interior, but each bellowing laugh lit Julian’s nerves afire and set his jaw firmly enough to damage one of his molars. His mother’s soft-spoken, understated voice was completely inaudible from his room—a fact that made him no less angrier.

 _Now, Julian. Take pity on your poor mum, hm? It wasn’t_ her _idea._

“She’s an enabler,” he shot back. “In my mind, she shoulders just as much blame as _he_ does.”

_I can tell by the sound in your voice when you say the word ‘he’ that it isn’t true. You’re just angry, Jules._

Julian physically nudged away from the patronizing sensitivity in Kukalaka’s voice and turned back to his bed. 

“Seriously, Ku—right now, I think you’re the last person I want to talk to.”

Kukalaka laughed. _Oh, come on, Jules. I’ve only ever been honest with you. Have I ever told you anything that wasn’t actually in your heart?_

“No,” Julian hissed. “But—“

 _Well, then._ He cut Julian off intentionally, his voice full of reasoning and self-satisfaction. 

Rather than respond, Julian returned to sitting on his bed, turning his attention to his upturned hands, tracing the gentle creases there and wondering if he’d had them before his operation.

“I don’t understand,” he began quietly, “how they can still look at me and call me their son.”

 _Is that what this is all about? Oh, Julian,_ Kukalaka cooed, _I think you’re looking at it all from the wrong angle._

“What other angle is there to look at it from?” He turned his hands over, running a finger along protruding veins. “It’s like I’m a completely different person that they swapped the original out for.”

_Maybe that’s because you don’t remember what it was like to be around you at that time._

Julian turned his head back over his shoulder, his eyes widening and then narrowing at the stuffed toy. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 _Exactly what it sounds like._ Kukalaka’s black eyes shone diminutively in the dreary lighting. _It was… discouraging, to say the least; frustrating to divulge a bit more, and heartbreaking at worst. But you did give it your all, lad._

He rolled his eyes. “Thanks a fucking bunch, Ku.”

 _I was there the whole time,_ Ku continued, much to Julian’s annoyance. _From the moment you were born, until this very second. I watched you struggle with even the most basic forms of comprehension as a child, looking on sadly as your mother agonized day and night over how your development stalled. In fact, I witnessed you flail about helplessly amongst your peers much more than your own parents did. You used to take me everywhere you went, if you recall._

Julian turned away from Kukalaka and ran his fingers through his hair.

 _Personally,_ the toy went on, with an even grander attempt at pushing helpfulness into his voice, _I liked you better before your enhancements--you were a much nicer boy then. Still, I completely understand their actions._

“Well, I don’t. And you’ve become pretty terrible at offering words of comfort as of late.”

Sounding aggrieved enough for Julian to experience a pang of guilt, Kukalaka said, _I’m sorry to hear that, Jules. You know, you’re not the only one who was negatively impacted by your little operation. Since then, I’ve spent increasingly more time collecting dust on a shelf, rather than fulfilling my intended purpose._

“And what purpose is that supposed to be?” He looked at the toy, hoping to find any trace of empathy on his changeless features.

_Being warm and snug, with your body wrapped tightly around me._

Julian crossed and uncrossed his legs, unsure of what made him more uncomfortable: Kukalaka’s precise choice of words, or the fact that he’s been neglectful of the only constant friend he’s ever had, having moved constantly around Federation space in pursuit of his father’s fleeting opportunities at work.

_Here, perhaps I can shift perspectives and show you what I mean. Would you like to try a little experiment?_

Julian huffed. “Not really.”

 _Don’t be so dismissive. It’s better than moping around in your dark room while there’s a birthday party for you running along quite fine without your presence, isn’t it? Ooh… just_ saying _that made me feel exponentially more sympathetic to your plight. Stand up, then._

Heaving a sigh, the teenager did as he was told, moving towards the wall opposite the foot of his bed, and to the left of Kukalaka.

_Turn me to face you. There we go. Stand in front of the mirror._

Julian took one short side-step to the left. It was a full-body, rectangular piece of glass that came attached to the surface.

_When I ask you what you see, what are the first words that pop into your head?_

Julian looked carefully into the mirror, cataloguing his round, hazel eyes; the chin-length brown curls that framed them, and the elongated face that somehow seemed to fit the unusually tall proportions of the rest of his body. From all of it, there was a incorporeal, shifting sense of disassociation.

“Duplicitous. Doppelganger. Unreal. Fraud.”

_That’ll do. Now, I want you to take your clothes off._

Curiosity piqued, Julian unzipped his tunic and began to shrug out of it. With one shoulder bared, he stopped and looked up at the toy, raising an eyebrow.

“All of them?”

_All of them._

For a moment, the presence of the door behind him burned at Julian’s back as he took hold of the bottom of his sleeveless undershirt and pulled it over his head. The fear that someone would walk in on him dissipated as he shimmied out of his pants; some dark place inside of him, possibly uncovered by his recent fit of anger, wished one of his parents _would_ see him as he stared into a mirror, completely naked. _That_ might set off some alarms.

Then he realized that they wouldn’t bother checking in on him; nor had they probably even noticed that he had retreated from the party, and his cheeks burned with indignation all over again. 

_Easy,_ Kukalaka chided him, gently. _Stay focused._

Julian was bent over, pulling the hems of his pants off of his ankles and removing his socks when Kukalaka issued his next order.

 _Now, without looking at the mirror, close your eyes._ He waited a until a few seconds after Julian did so. 

_Do you remember what you looked like before your operation, Jules?_

“No,” the boy replied honestly, his eyelids fluttering as the organs beneath them moved side to side rapidly, scanning his memory for relative images.

_I do. Listen to every word I say._

“Mm-hm.”

_You were always a slight boy; that much hasn’t changed. Your face was just as long then as it is now. Unfortunately, as you were, the rest of you wasn’t destined to fill out as nicely as you do at this moment. Are you listening?_

Julian swallowed a heavy lump in his throat as the images in his head—imagined or retrieved from actual memory—began to fly together like tiny pieces to a puzzle.

“Yes.”

_You had a nervous tic in your arm, which you held close to your chest whenever you walked in order to prevent it from spasming. You were born with a right club foot, and despite operations to correct it, you walked with a slight limp on the afflicted side._

A bud of pain flowered in Julian’s chest as he winced internally at the conceived image of this pathetic child. All at once, the memories returned to him—sitting in a heap-like state on the floor, watching everything around him in a hazy cloud of confusion and awe. Being the oldest in his class from being held back. Unable to keep up with the other kids during recess. 

_Do you see him?_

Julian had every intention of answering yes, but his vocal chords failed at the moment he opened his mouth, and all that emerged was a faint whimper.

_Now, open your eyes._

Even though he had turned the lamp to the lowest setting, the light that flooded into his view caused him to lift his eyelids cautiously, as though he was peeking at another person’s naked form from behind a set of old-fashioned dusty blinds. 

_What do you think?_

The previous five minutes that he had spent in his head as the strange, awkward little boy with the uneven gait compounded the detachment between himself and the boy in the mirror manifold. He was right, he thought as his eyes grazed over the flawless, honey-colored flesh; the delicately toned muscles in his biceps and abdominal region, the slender neck that held together his petite, uniquely proportioned frame. They were _not_ the same person. 

Watching his hand make the slow climb up towards his face was like watching himself be manipulated by strings, like a marionette—a feeling so surreal that he felt momentarily disoriented and had to steady himself. 

Julian traced the line of his jaw with the pad of his index finger, overwhelmed with the sudden impression of another person being in the same room, mirroring the action. Chills razored through his body, from the base of his neck to his toes. Kukalaka’s question went unanswered.

 _He’s beautiful, isn’t he?_ The inquiry had so much intimacy interlaced within its syllables that Julian shuddered, again declining to answer, his fingertips dragging along the hollow of his neck and following the lines of his clavicles. 

“This…” he breathed as he stepped closer to the mirror, resting his head against the cool surface and diving into his counterpart’s eyes with his own, their parted lips nearly touching. “… is why they kept me?” He brought one forearm up to lean against the mirror, while the other hand made its inevitable descent downwards to address the straining erection that now canted towards the glass.

 _Even you have to admit that it’s difficult to have any regrets now, Jules._ Kukalaka’s voice became seemingly more disembodied with every passing word.

He hesitated once his hand reached the base of his cock, bypassing it to play with the sensitized nerves inside his thighs. His breath made small clouds of moisture spread upwards across his mirror image’s face.

 _Go on, Jules,_ Kukalaka’s familiar voice purred, seeming closer to him than it ever did before. 

_Touch yourself._

Careful not to break eye-contact with the mirror, Julian pulled himself away from the wall and backpedaled for about a meter before his calves hit the edge of his bed. He eased down onto the sheets and watched his counterpart spread his knees slowly, surrendering his swollen cock to the hand enveloping it. Rolling his tongue back to collect all of the saliva in his mouth, he then tucked his chin down and drizzled it onto his glans through an aperture in his pursed lips. Light, wispy gasps emerged from his throat as he set his attentions back onto the mirror, guiding his hips upward into his palm as his body reacted involuntarily to witnessing the fluid slide down the engorged flesh. 

_Tell me, Jules,_ Kukalaka said affectionately, watching the scene unfold from his shadowy perch above the mirror. _When you look at the mirror now, what words spring to mind?_

Julian’s left hand implanted itself into the mattress, allowing him to lean back and give himself more exposure to the light. The other hand worked himself over gradually, in no sort of hurry. 

“I…” he gasped, shooting Kukalaka a quick glance that sent a thrilling sort of sharpness tearing down his abdomen. Unwittingly, Julian quickened the pace of his hand.

“I don’t know.”

 _Concentrate, boy,_ Kukalaka said torridly, his voice ringing in his ears.

The boy in the mirror came into focus again, and Julian made sure to drink in every nuance he could of his abandoned posture from bottom to top. He glazed over his feet of average size, ran his eyes up along the seemingly endless towers of sinewy legs that had given him the height that made him so easily recognizable, and glossed over the moist areas of his pubis that his right hand was entertaining, switching back and forth between stroking his cock and teasing the entrance beneath it. 

As his twin rolled his head back to expose his neck, Julian found himself having to suppress a suddenly desperate need to watch this kid get fucked; to see hands besides his own spreading themselves across the smooth, flat plains of his torso, contrasting to the dark complexion that gave him his exotic quality.

The word exploded from his mouth just as he came into his hand, violently and unexpected.

 _That’s right, Jules._ Kukalaka said silkilly as Julian collapsed onto his back, catching his breath.

_You’re perfect, now._

\--

It wasn’t until three hours later, after half of the guests had excused themselves and the jovial sounds of socializing were dying down to a content murmur, did Richard realize that his son was missing.

“Jules?” He called out his name a few times, poking his head into rooms along the way to Julian’s closed second story bedroom.

The door slid open, and he started to say his name, but stopped himself when he realized that Julian lay sleeping on his left side, facing away from the door, with his head resting atop his left arm, _and completely bare-assed._ His hair obscured his eyes. Tucked snugly in his other arm was Kukalaka, the ratty old teddy bear that the boy had some ridiculous sentimental attachment to.

Hesitating, Richard wondered if he should wake him up; tell him, “Do you realize you’re nearly a grown man and still sleeping with dolls,” or “Put some bloody clothes on.” Or maybe he should go the subtle route and cover him up with a blanket. No, absolutely not. Too awkward.

He ended up rolling his eyes and closing the door behind him, wondering why genetic engineering hadn’t advanced to the point where one could breed “weird” out of his son’s genes.


End file.
